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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27090007">The Loose Thread</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petalpistols/pseuds/Petalpistols'>Petalpistols</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1920s, AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Betrayal, Canon Divergent, Dark, Demons, F/F, F/M, Hell, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, It’s just a dark story y’all this is your warning lmao, Murder, Past Child Abuse, Time Travel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 03:02:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,226</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27090007</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petalpistols/pseuds/Petalpistols</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie believes that anyone can be saved.  She believes inside every of every person, there is good.  Alastor is no exception.  In order to prevent Alastor from becoming the dreaded Radio Demon, she travels into the past, hoping to stop the madness at its very root.</p><p>However, the only thing inside of Alastor is a lost cause.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alastor/Charlie Magne, Charlie Magne/Vaggie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>A Single Spider’s Web</p><p> </p><p>~*~~*~~*~~*~</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Charlie was a lot of things; reckless, naive, emotional— but she was NOT a quitter.  When the goin’ got tough, Charlie got tougher.  When life hit her hard, she hit back with just as much force.  Although her efforts for harmony were often overlooked by the mass majority of hell, once she had set her mind to something, she wasn’t one to simply quit.  It didn’t matter that her father always ridiculed Charlie for her kind heart, nor did it matter that her mother was distant and hard to reach, it wasn’t going to stop the demon princess.  Her dreams were humble, yet challenging.  She wanted to offer a sanctuary to rehabilitate the sinners of hell and help them reach heaven, hoping to soothe population control that has plagued the underworld for far longer than she’s been around.  For her, it was not only important, but <em>dire</em>.  After years of watching her citizens suffer, blood painting the streets after countless exterminations, she had finally decided that enough was enough.  She was going to set her plan into motion, she was going to create a rehabilitation hotel.  Accompanied at the time by her girlfriend Vaggie, Charlie found comfort in her support— despite her partner’s own concerns.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>However, when Charlie admitted that she was going to try to find a way to help Alastor, the infamous radio demon who no one in hell knew much about, she found she couldn’t rely on Vaggie for much longer. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t out of malice of course, but rather out of pure concern.  Vaggie had never truly come around to the notion of Alastor being redeemable.  After a year of running the hotel, Charlie found herself trying to subtly nudge Al onto a kinder path.  Of course none of her attempts ever actually worked, but she figured progress would occur soon enough.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Vaggie thought otherwise.  She said someone like him couldn’t be redeemable.  </p><p> </p><p>“He’s like a black hole, Charlie.”  Vaggie had started up once again, frustration evident in her tone.  At the mere <em>mention</em> of the demon clad in red; her body tensed defensively.  “He swallows everything around him up!  Any goodness in him was lost a long time ago— if he even had any to begin with.”</p><p> </p><p>“But we don’t know that for <em>sure</em>.” Charlie argued, palms open as if she were offering an invisible parcel to Vaggie.  “I mean— we’ve already gotten so close to redeeming other demons!  If there’s hope for them, then there’s gotta be hope for him.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Oh Dios mío— </em> some people are just <em> bad </em> Charlie!  Bad and they don’t change because they <em> don’t care. </em> ” She raked a slender hand through her silvery hair.  “And Alastor doesn’t care about anything <em>or</em> anyone but himself!  I mean— it’s not like he believes in the Hotel anyways!” </p><p> </p><p>“But if we <em> could  </em>change his mind, the citizens of hell would find the hotel credible— we could save so many people!”</p><p> </p><p>Vaggie sighed, arms folding over her chest.  There was clearly no winning this argument.  If there was one thing that could put a wedge in their relationship, it would be their stubbornness.  However, Charlie couldn’t be too frustrated with her, as she knew Vaggie was coming from a place of worry.  Her protective nature was something Charlie adored. </p><p> </p><p>“Look… Please just…. Just think about what I said, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Charlie didn’t argue much with her after that, as it would’ve been a losing fight.  But still, she <em>had</em> thought through the risks, and had already made up her mind.  She was going to move forward with her plan—this time with or without Vaggie.  It wasn’t as though she wasn’t conscious of the risks in aiding a demon as notable as Alastor, it was simply that she wasn’t someone who could just…  Give up, even if the odds were stacked against her.  She had to at least /try/.</p><p> </p><p>But still…  Charlie was nervous.  Vaggie had made some good points.  She was right, Alastor <em>didn’t</em> care about anything other than his own entertainment.  He didn’t care about the hurt he caused, nor did he care about the demons that filtered into the hotel— even if they were far and few between.  And with his past veiled in mystery, questions only continued to stack up.  Who exactly WAS Alastor?  What made him tick?</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>How did he end up in hell?  </p><p> </p><p>Theories bounced around the slums of the city in hushed whispers, though of course Alastor neither confirmed nor denied any.  Hypotheses aside, people were simply too scared to ask him of his life before death.  It was almost as though there was this unspoken rule he had established the moment he found himself in hell.  If no one asks the Radio Demon about his past, then <em>no one</em> gets hurt.  Even Charlie found herself reluctant in blatantly asking the man herself, opting in quietly hinting at her clear curiosity.  Her intrigue was more often than not ignored with a smile and a vague statement on <em>who knows what</em>.  It didn’t take long for Charlie to figure out that she wasn’t going to get anything out of Alastor no matter how hard she tried.</p><p> </p><p>But in order to help Alastor, she needed to find the route of the problem.  She needed to know the man before the monster.  She needed to unravel the mysteries of the past, by going to the past herself.</p><p> </p><p>And upon that discovery, she devised yet another plan.  Or well, a plan that would <em>probably</em> go wrong, but had the potential of <em>maybe</em> kinda sorta going right.  Even with a slim margin of success, it was all the coaxing Charlie needed.  Her plan, like <em>all</em> plans, was simple.  First, while her father was away on business, she would lurk into his hall of antiques at the Royal estate.  As a collector of forbidden objects, she knew her father would have exactly the artifact she was looking for.  So long as she wasn’t caught snooping around, she would consider it a win in her books.  </p><p> </p><p>However, once she found herself back home, maids greeting her as she flitted down the hall aimlessly, that’s when Charlie’s anxiety kicked in.  She didn’t need, nor have any strong desire to see her father, <em>especially</em> in the context of robbery.  She’d never hear the end of it.  Her father after all, loved to talk.</p><p> </p><p>And she <em>hated</em> being the subject of scrutinization.</p><p> </p><p>But still, her mind was more than just made up.  Perhaps one of her greatest, and truest faults.  Thankfully it wasn’t all too difficult to access the artifact room.  Though it was behind a locked door, it was also her father’s most prized, and most showed off room.  Only the most trusted of her father’s servants that had access to it.  Even Charlie had been in it once before— though that was a long time ago.  A time when she was too young to disappoint her father.  She didn’t remember much of it personally, as she could only cite that her father was <em>very</em> proud of his dangerous collection of demonic artifacts, and that if anyone were to ever take something of his, he’d do more than just chop their arms off.</p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t smiling when he said that, so Charlie kept her hands tucked against her side that day as a precaution.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>But that was the past and this is now.  Sure it was still risky as hell, but maybe if she found herself getting caught, her father would be humored by her… <em>Spunk</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Well, before he did anything <em>too</em> dramatic.</p><p> </p><p>Knowing the palace like the back of her hand, it was no difficult task for Charlie to nab a circlet of keys from a maid cart and tuck them into her pocket.  Though she was by no means a good liar, and her presence at the palace felt out of place considering her strained relationship with her parents, even the maids couldn’t bat much of an eye at the Princess of Hell’s presence.  The most Charlie received were inquisitive glances.  Once she made it to the artifact room, keys in hand, she took a few cautions glances around before slipping into the dark entryway, closing and locking the door on her way in.</p><p> </p><p>Once she gave herself a second to look around, she recognized that it was just as grand as she had remembered.  Her father spared no expenses on his treasure trove, as it was practically the only thing he doted on.  As much as Charlie hated admitting it, it was quite the sight to behold.  The room was spacious yet cluttered— but cluttered in the way that made everything look oddly organized.  Stacked against dark-wooded counters were books and papers detailing different phenomenons that have afflicted the mortal world.  In glass cases sat cursed and possessed relics, dangerous trinkets that only humans were foolish enough to try and tamper with.  Although there were name plates for each artifact, there were no descriptors detailing what exactly would entail one if it wound up in their hands. </p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, Charlie could sense the power in each artifact— one of the many perks of being a high-ranking demon born in hell.  Just as her mother and her father could, Charlie was capable of sensing the type of power, and the magnitude of said power that coursed through every artifact.  In a way, they were all alive— and Charlie could feel them breathing inside their glass containers, awaiting a time they can once again cause mischief in the mortal world.  It sent a chill down her spine— but whether that was due to fear, or excitement, she was unable to tell.  The quiet chaos that lived inside of her made trivial feelings at times difficult to unravel.</p><p> </p><p>Keeping her hands to herself, she sifted through the different containers, each seeming to call out to her.  Though hard to ignore the voices, she wasn’t one easily tempted by grandeur dreams of power and wealth— what she wanted was far simpler than that.  It didn’t take long for the girl to find what she was looking for, as everything was neatly on display, awaiting to be stumbled to, and peered upon.  In a glass box, still clean from the morning chores, she sees it.  A golden pocket-watch glistening beneath fluorescent light as though it had only just been polished.  It could easily fit into the palm of her hands, and with every quiet tick of the watch, she felt her heart stutter.  It was sucking her in and she <em>knew it</em>.  It felt her desires seep into the room the moment the door clicked behind her.</p><p> </p><p>It made her think over her plans, doubt clinging to her lips as it pulled them down.  Still, there was no time to hesitate.  Charlie had lost the luxury the moment she infiltrated her father’s private quarters.  Her only option was to press forward, and hope that her plan would work.</p><p> </p><p>Carefully, she popped the latch off the glass box, opened it, and scooped the artifact into her hand.  Charlie swore she could feel life breathe into it the moment it was touched.  Panic settled across her body, and without a second to think, she shoved it deep into her pocket, closed the class door, and slipped out of the room, not bothering to check on whether or not the coast was clear.  Thankfully, luck had been on her side, as no maid or butler saw her skitter down the hall, and into her own quarters.  It had somehow been the perfect crime.  Or at the very least, it was for the time being.  With her back against her door, she breathed out a large sigh and slowly slid onto the ground, her black nails curling into the maroon carpet of her childhood room.  She thought if her heart could beat any harder, it would leap out of her mouth and onto the floor before her.</p><p> </p><p><em>Dad might get a kick out of it, at the very least</em>.</p><p> </p><p>After a few passing minutes to collect herself, Charlie pulled the watch from her pocket.  Her pale fingers smoothed over the metal, a satisfied, yet nervous smile reluctantly pulling her round cheeks up.  With a click, she opened it, it’s casing popping open to reveal an old ticking clock, and a dial showcasing the date and year.  It certainly wasn’t accurate, but she assumed that it was a marker for the last person who wielded it.   It was a <em>warning</em>, but Charlie had already ignored so many red flags getting to the artifact, she certainly wasn’t going to heed any now.</p><p> </p><p>What she had learned about the pocket-watch during her own private times to research was pretty straightforward.  While holding the watch, adjust the date and time to your liking, and it will transport you to that period of time.  The wielder will only have one chance to be transported to that time, and another chance to set the correct date to return home.  The watch needed time to recharge between the first use, and if lost, it <em>must</em> be found.  Holding an object from the past helped in the watch’s accuracy, as well as aided in specific locations.  </p><p> </p><p>Thank goodness her father had plenty of viable resources for Charlie to investigate the artifact.  One wrong move and she would seal her fate.  She couldn’t afford to slip up— not now, not when she was a breath away from saving Alastor from himself.  </p><p> </p><p>From her back pocket, Charlie pulled a pen— a smooth, aged black fountain pen to be exact.  Alastor had given it to her the second day the two began working together, a <em>gift</em> to commemorate their partnership, as he had described.  She hadn’t thought much of it at first, as it was a rather odd gift considering its age…  But she had used it nonetheless, enjoying how cleanly the black ink dragged across her diary pages.  This was going to be her ticket to an accurate location.  Embedded into the pen, was the manufacturer, as well as the date in gold.  <span class="u"><em>Pittsburgh Pennsylvania, 1923.</em></span></p><p> </p><p>She stared at the pen for a long while as reality set in.  She was scared, truthfully.  One wrong move and she could not only be trapped in the past, but the hotel would be all for naught.  Although her present-day world would halt whilst she maneuvered through the mortal world of the past, the implications of her disappearance if she were to fail, could be disastrous if mistakes were made.</p><p> </p><p>However, there was only so much hesitation she could grant herself.  Charlie knew she had to make a decision.  After all the work she’s put into her plan, all the nights spent researching demonic artifacts, rationalizing her decision— there was no way she could back out now.</p><p> </p><p>And before she could attempt to talk herself out of her scheme, she turned the dial of the pocket watch until the date and time correlated with the pen, closed it, and watched as the world around her morphed into nothingness.</p><p> </p><p>There was no turning back now.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Faded Link</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ANOTHER CHAPTER!  I'll see about a writing schedule soon.  For the time being, please forgive sporadic updates.  I hope you all enjoy reading this chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She felt like she was floating, and then she felt like she was drowning.  Then she felt as though she was turning into sea-foam, fading into murky waters without an ounce of fight left in her.  Charlie couldn’t fight back, and she could barely think.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And then she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>falling, falling, falling</span>
  </em>
  <span>, cold air pinching her cheeks.  And then she wasn’t.  Life ever so slowly slipped out of her.  There was a buzzing in her head; it rattled her brain.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And then the world around her stopped.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luck had somehow found itself on her side.  Truthfully speaking, Charlie hadn’t put too much thought into what exactly she would do once she had traveled back in time.  Although she was certain she would be able to snag the artifact, she was also certain she would mess </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>up just as well.  She’s rather good at making mistakes after all.  Although this… Mission of hers couldn’t afford to go wrong.  The small part of her, the part that quietly brought her doubts to life, had insisted that she would fumble eventually- leaving behind a mess someone would have to clean up for her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But it seemed as though </span>
  <em>
    <span>today was not that day. </span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She awoke to find herself beneath a blanket of darkness, dim streetlamps painting a dreary picture for her first night in the mortal world.  She looked at her pocket watch that had remained firmly pressed into her palm, its quiet ticks clipping into the lonesome night.  It was 3 in the morning, and the busy city was desolate.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thank God </span>
  </em>
  <span>she had adjusted the clock to an odd time.  She couldn’t exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>plop </span>
  </em>
  <span>herself in the past during rush-hour, that was just asking for trouble.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Giving herself time, she lied against the dew-rimmed grass of what she assumed was a park for a while longer before sitting up slowly.  Her body ached, and her head pounded with every breath she took.  She felt like she had run a marathon or two, then lost a boxing match.  The artifact never promised comfortable transportation.  She supposed this was her price to pay to match her greed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>No not </span>
  <em>
    <span>greed.  </span>
  </em>
  <span>She was trying to help Alastor.  Nothing more, nothing less.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Giving another quick look at the pocket watch, the magnitude of its powers depleted for the time being, she shoved it deep into the pockets of her black slacks.  One pale hand combed through her hair.  She needed clothes.  She needed a makeover. She needed a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bed</span>
  </em>
  <span> and a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bath</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She needed to find a hotel...  How ironic.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly, she rose from the ground, balancing the pad of her palms against her bony knees until she stood at full height.  She felt too tired to alter too much, but the face and the physique would certainly need changing.  The mortal world was skittish, fearing the unknown despite its own greed and curiosity.  She couldn’t afford to stick out like a sore thumb.  From her back pocket, she pulled from it both her compact mirror, and her wallet.  Currency would have to be carefully kept watch over.  She certainly had enough money to keep her secure, especially for the time period she found herself in- but she knew better than to act careless.  Charlie lacked the option of returning to hell for financial assistance.  She would have to be smart about her funds.  If she were to run out before her goal was reached, she would have no choice but to return home.  Her only other option was getting a job… And well-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-She knew enough about human history to know that her best luck at a job was selling skin on the side.  And that was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>an option.  Angel would be disappointed, but he wasn’t present to judge her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her wallet returned to her pocket for the time-being, and her attention was given to her compact mirror instead.  It was a beautiful gift from her mother.  It wasn’t often her mother remembered her birthday, but on the off-chance she would, she always gave the best presents.  It was made completely of smooth silver, and decorated with a curl of melted gold in the shape of winding veins of thorns.  A single ruby, no larger than the size of a half dollar sat nestled in its center.  It felt far more lavish than what Charlie was accustomed to wearing as of recently, but it did cause her to smile softly.  It was her very own link to her present.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Flipping it open, she immediately gasped at the sight of her own reflection.  She looked like an absolute </span>
  <em>
    <span>mess</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Her hair was tangled at the edges, and her eyes were dark and heavy.  Even the color in her cheeks had faded a touch.  The clock was </span>
  <em>
    <span>cruel, </span>
  </em>
  <span>as it had tried its very best to suck the life out of the girl.  Although her sloppy appearance shouldn’t have shocked her all that much, Charlie found that she couldn’t very much help her reaction to her jarring appearance.  Still, no time for fooling around. Giving one quick glance around the park to reassure the girl that she was truly alone, Charlie went straight to work.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sighing, she started with her face, delicately papping one cheek at a time.  From her reflection, she could see her appearance change.  Her paper-white skin blossomed warmly until it was a smooth pinky-creamy hue.  Next came the nose, from once a black button on her face, to now a round, pink color that matched with her new pigment.  Lips were easy.  She rubbed her thumb from cupid’s bow, to lower lip, and circled until the color became a dull rose-y hue.  Though she couldn’t exactly change her fatigued demeanor, at least she could blend in more now.  Cosmetics aside, she looked human.  Opening her mouth, her sharp canines flattened, all she had left was to tend to her hair…  That was actually quite a shame.  She loved her long pale tresses.  However, she knew the time well enough to know the style.  She </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>to blend in.  With a heavy heart, she stroked her long, golden locks until they shorted right to her chin.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Though it was rare that Charlie used her powers, as they were at times chaotic and harsh, difficult to control, they came in handy for small tasks.  All she would have to do was keep her more… Problematic qualities in check, and she would be able to keep her appearance with relative ease.  Clicking the compact shut, she pressed it into her pocket.  Appearance, </span>
  <em>
    <span>check</span>
  </em>
  <span>, location, </span>
  <em>
    <span>check… </span>
  </em>
  <span> Now all that was left was to find a bed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was an awkward endeavor to navigate a foreign city.  Beneath the dark sky, the street looked dirty and smelled a bit rank.  History always colored reality in a wash of rose, trying to hide away the red flags of the past.  She spotted no difference here.  Still, a small part of her hoped the city would come to life when the sun rose.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>By the time she found herself a hotel, Charlie was absolutely knackered.  Feeling sore and stiff hadn’t helped her in the slightest, and she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>terribly tired.  All she wanted to do was to sleep until she couldn’t sleep anymore.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thankfully it only took her 30 minutes to find a hotel.  Charlie nearly shed a few tears realizing it was open 24 hours, and with a happy, tired smile, she pushed open the doors with conviction…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>...Only to shrink in size at the annoyed gaze of the receptionist, who reacted to the chime of the door with a half-lidded, bothered stare.  Clearing her throat, she approached him, hands tucked at her sides.  </span>
</p>
<p>“Umm… How much is a room?”  She squeaked out, barely registering the fatigue to her tone.</p>
<p>
  <span>Lazily, the man opened up a little book and flipped through its contents.  “Standard?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, standard?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He flicked his gaze back up to her, his dark eyes impatient.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You want a bigger size?”</span>
  <span></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“No- sorry I’m just.  I’m just tired is all, sorry.  Standard is fine.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyone can tell that.” He hummed in response, licking his finger before turning a page.  “We charge 2.25 for-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“2.25?!” She gasped.  Although she was aware that prices would be much lower than what she was accustomed to, it still caught her by surprise.  Just as well, it soothed her financial worries immediately.  The receptionist however didn’t share the sentiment.  He wasn’t interested in seeing Charlie’s relief.  Instead, he looked like he’d much prefer to see her out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What? Your husband not give you enough money?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She frowned at that, dissatisfied with the comment.  However, she bit her tongue.  She had to remember that times were different. Stil, she couldn’t help but turn her nose up a bit when she responded, rummaging for her wallet.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I have enough money </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you very much.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fantastic.”  </span>
  </em>
  <span>He mused sarcastically, clearly unimpressed.  “Do you need it until tomorrow?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I need it…  Indefinitely…?” She tapped her finger against her lower lip.  Charlie had no idea how long she would remain in the human world after all.  The receptionist let out a bothered sigh.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t take </span>
  <em>
    <span>indefinitely, </span>
  </em>
  <span>lady.  What’s the name, and how many nights?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His attitude made fast work in rubbing her the wrong way.  Usually she had more patience for blatant disrespect, but with her energy zapped, and her body sore, she found patience was a luxury.  However, she remained composed.  Breathing out from her nose, she spoke again, articulating her words carefully.  “Charli-- …  Charlotte Magne, 5 days for now.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Glad we have that settled.  Payment upfront.”  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Holding out his gloved hand, Charlie forked over her cash.  He eyed it wearily, but didn’t seem to care enough to dwell on the differences in print.  She was thankful, she didn’t have it in her to argue its validity.  She would have to disguise it later- an oversight she couldn’t afford moving forward.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With her change, key, and room number, the girl didn’t so much as offer a goodbye, merely staggering to her room.  Upon arrival, she didn’t giver herself so much as a second to examine its décor.  As soon as her knees bumped against the faded blue comforter of her bed, she fell onto it, and slipped into a deep, and well needed slumber.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Apologies for a rather abrupt ending!  Alastor should be appearing soon... Stay tuned :)</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you all enjoyed this!  Stay tuned for more updates— I’m excited to write out this complicated and tragic story :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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